Celebrity news & gossip from the world’s showbiz and glamour magazines (OK!, Hello, National Enquirer and more). We read them so you don’t have to, picking the best bits from the showbiz world’s maw and spitting it back at them. Expect lots of sarcasm.
IN 1978, the Associated Press met Kellie Everts, the Miss Nude Universe who became as a striptease artist performing on a Washington stage because “God told her to quiet her job as a social worker and return to the stage to perform her strip act”.
The woman born Rasa von Werder was stripping for Jesus.
And isn’t stripping another kind of social work?
RIP Gabriel García Márquez, 1927-2014:
THE animosity circus that was Britpop, with everyone trying to outdo each other by saying “we’re the best band in the world” and slating other bands was fun for 10 minutes. When bands like Scotland’s The Gyres started calling themselves the best band in the world, everything got a bit claggy.
However, one rivalry really caught everyone’s attention – Oasis versus Blur.
On one hand, you had the distanced Damon Albarn and his gaggle of middle-class artists, sidestepping the High Street to look at the way people lived. It was songs about lottery winners, girls who worked the check-outs, shipping forecasts and having sex with the telly on. On the other, you had Oasis – a gang of lads from some crap street, hungry for success and writing songs about having the best night out ever and immortality.
Everything about the rivalry worked, even though both bands were indebted to the same period of ’60s music (Oasis were aping The Beatles’ ‘Rain’ and noisy Freakbeat records, while Blur took a Ray Davies and ‘Penny Lane’ approach). Is was lads off the estate versus those that listened in school.
Many snide remarks were thrown back and forth and it was equally useful for both bands as the press and marketing teams gobbled it all up. It all came to the fore with Country House versus Roll With It. Both bands, in their own way won and, the ultimate loser was the record buying public as, once the fuss had died down, they realised they’d got suck into buying some subpar records.
However, they’ve all grown up now. Damon Albarn is a music magpie with a variety of collaborations and projects under his belt, while Noel Gallagher left Oasis, leaving Liam to tour with Beady Eye, the world’s best Oasis tribute act. Gone are the jibes wishing AIDS on each other. Damon and Noel, the statesmen of their respective camps, have grown to like each other away from all the din.
Albarn has, for a while now, talked of the times he bumped into Noel and, after a tentative start, they’ve grown to like each other. Now, in 2014, it looks like an album with them both is on the cards.
Damon revealed that making an album with Noel Gallagher is a “distinct possibility” and that the pair have discussed the idea “at least once”.
“I still see Noel from time to time. We text a bit,” Albarn says. When asked if the pair would be making a record together, he said: “I can imagine that being a very distinct possibility at some point in the future. But, as yet we haven’t really talked about it, although…”
“OK we have a little bit. We’re talking. It’s not anything to get excited about yet. I mean, he’s doing his thing. He’s finishing a new record. I’ve got my record coming out, but the principle of us making music together is something…you know, it would be fair to say, we have discussed it at least once.”
And if you missed it, Damon and Noel played on-stage together last year at the Royal Albert Hall for a Teenage Cancer Trust gig.
Could be a good LP, if they work it out.
THROUGHOUT cinematic history, our most beloved monsters — from Dracula and The Wolf Man to Freddy Krueger and King Kong — have returned again and again to haunt our nightmares, and our movie screens.
In any horror movie or monster movie sequel, the primary challenge is thus always quite specific: how do we get our beloved monster back after so thoroughly and completely defeating him at the end of the previous movie? How do we snatch defeat from what seemed like victory?
Some movie franchises have proven cleverer than others at threading this particular needle, finding fresh and inventive ways to get our beloved monsters stalking again.
A CLEARLY bonkers Canadian dentist called Dr Michael Zuk has spoken of his not weird and distressing at all plans to clone dead Beatle John Lennon and raise him as a son.
See, he’s got DNA from the singer’s tooth and doesn’t see any weird moral implications of owning his own little Beatle, like he’s the evil empire in Star Wars, making a load of Jango Fetts.
ANROAK’S favourite Christian rocker William Tapley, aka the Third Eagle of the Apocalypse, singer of such hits as Denver Airport Is Stuffed With Penises and Gangham, Style and Call Me Maybe Herald Arrival of The Anti-Christ will now sing a song for Lent:
THE painter Pablo Picasso once asked who can see the human face correctly: the photographer, the mirror, or the painter.
Popular horror films and television programs have long highlighted all three possibilities, but focused most intently, perhaps, on the mirror.
FEEL free, at any point during this article, to tut to yourself “Cuh! Including yourself are we, Corden?”
James Corden has hit out at some of the “horrible” people who attended the Brit Awards while he was doing a very thorough job hosting the dreadful ceremony.
After four gigs, Corden decided to step down after the last one. Talking about his experiences at the annual hanging of pop music, during Michael McIntyre’s chat show, Corden was critical of some of the people who sit on the tables at the event.
“It was horrid,” Corden told McIntyre. “It is so much fun the week leading up to it and you get to see the bands, and then it is live and you are in this room full of people that don’t listen to anything you say. People who beg for a ticket turn up and pretend they are too cool to be there. They are all chatting, drinking and eating.”
PEOPLE have long chuckled about America’s insistence that people from the Middle East are white. Apart from present day Middle Eastern people of course. They HATE those guys.
We’re talking about the meme that got out of hand. European artists painted Jesus as a white guy and everyone cleverly ignored the fact that he would have at least been olive-skinned, or even darker. He definitely wasn’t some white guy with fair hair and a neat beard who looked like he might be the road manager for Creedence Clearwater Revival.
So too, the rest of The Bible’s important figures found themselves being whitened, in modern American depictions especially. And so, to Noah, who just happens to be the subject of a new film and, unsurprisingly, he’s played by a white guy; Russell Crowe.
THE 1970s was a decade set ablaze with countless Jesus Freaks and Holy Rollers cranking out an untold number of gospel records. There seemed no end to the number of artists Bound for Glory and preaching the Good Word. What holds them all together is not only their brand of music, but also their total inability to produce an album cover that is not jarringly awkward. The hideous fashions, the frightening hair styles, the creepy vibes… each one is a tiny miracle of condensed tackiness and unease. Hallelujah!
I guess the glory of the Lord is so bright; four of the six bespectacled Farr boys had their lenses tinted. The top-center Farr is simply majestic – the mighty ‘fro helmet is a thing of heavenly beauty.
TAMARA Mellon’s ex-husband Matthew Mellon, 50, and his current wife Nicole Hanley Mellon, 36, are the subjects of a ‘they-really-aren’t-like-the-rest-of-us’ feature in the New York Times. We encounter the couple “seated in the living room of their apartment in the Pierre hotel.” Talk turns to how Mr Mellon, 50, and Nicole met:
“My breath was literally taken away. I knew instantly. I was rocketed to the fourth dimension. It was a metaphysical overtaking. I called my ex-wife and my mother and said, ‘I met my future wife.’”
Wow, indeed. But that’s not the best bit of this interview beamed from another planet. Before we get to his wife’s reply, know that Tamara Mellon is, famously, the entrepreneurial co-founder of the Jimmy Choo shoe label, and the daughter of Tommy Yeardye, former Hollywood stunt man and one-time lover to married kiss ‘n’ tell sex bomb Diana Dors. He once ran a London nightclub where guests could sketch naked models as they eat dinner. A more successful business venture saw him hook up with young hairdresser Vidal Sassoon. He made a mint.
Tamara Yeardye met Matthew Mellon drugs rehab.
I Was G-Man Jerry Cotton: When Hedy Lamarr Performed The First On-Screen Orgasm And Jane Powell Grew Up
SO. ‘What does the music for a 1965 West German movie about a New York FBI agent sound like?’ asks James Lileks? That question to you, special agent Jerry Cotton, hero of Operation 100 Dollar Gang.
Cotton was played by US actor and all-round beefcake George Nader. You may know him from his 1958 melodrama The Female Animal, starring 1940s sex symbol Hedy Lamarr and actress-singer Jane Powell, pictured below taking advantage of the warm California winter to relax at pool side on Jan. 16, 1958.
UNSURPRISINGLY, Kylie Minogue has announced she will not be returning to The Voice.
The show, which has completely failed to set the world on fire, mainly thanks to being somehow more cynical than The X Factor, thanks to it’s slapped-on veneer of authenticity, has been plodding along with Tom Jones looking confused, will.i.am. being oddly adorable like someone made a human tamagotchi and then there’s Ricky from Kaiser Chiefs who is what he is.
Kylie however, was a surprise inclusion, replacing Jessie J. Surely she was too successful and busy to be pissing around with a programme like The Voice?
Well, file it under An Experiment That Didn’t Work as she won’t be coming back for a second stint, saying that the timing of her tour is getting in the way. That’s useful and convenient isn’t it?
WHEN a pop star dies, some people get a bit more mental in the way they approach the band. Instead of liking the band for what they are and weighing up whether or not to feel sad about the plight of the singer or, indeed, the fact there’ll be no more records from them, they get bug-eyed and start acting like evangelical Apple fanboys.
One man, called Richard Lee, is a Kurt Cobain death conspiracy theorist and he’s suing the Seattle Police Department. He used to have a public access TV show called ‘Kurt Cobain Was Murdered’. It’s no ‘Everybody Loves Ray’.
FRENCH cinema’s intense The 400 Blows (Les Quatre cents coups – the French title comes from the idiom, faire les quatre cents coups—“to raise hell”) features a fantastic performance from Jean-Pierre Léaud as the delinquent adolescent Antoine Doinel. For anyone who has not seen this spellbinding 1959 film, here’s an outline of the story from Criterion:
François Truffaut’s first feature is also his most personal. Told through the eyes of Truffaut’s cinematic counterpart, Antoine Doinel (Jean-Pierre Léaud), The 400 Blows sensitively re-creates the trials of Truffaut’s own childhood, unsentimentally portraying aloof parents, oppressive teachers, and petty crime. The film marked Truffaut’s passage from leading critic to trailblazing auteur of the French New Wave.
OF all the dreadful, heart-wrenching stories to come from Guantanamo Bay, the news that the CIA are using the Red Hot Chili Peppers music as a torture device is surely the worst.
Prisoners in Guantánamo Bay have been subject to all manner of woeful behaviour, but surely they’d all prefer to be water boarded than have to listen to Anthony Kiedis & Co. Just imagine being couped up, chains around your ankles, while someone plays their brand of rock-funk dreck at you.
It’s enough to make your brain shut down just so the ears and body die.
FLASHBACK to June 28, 1937 at a Los Angeles station – file under awkward kisses:
John Barrymore and Elaine Barrie have settled all their martial differences. Elaine said that the first thing she would do would be to set aside the interlocutory divorce which she obtained, after which they would go house-hunting. John Barrymore and Elaine Barrie making up their differences with a kiss at the station at Los Angeles, on June 28, 1937.
Given the look on their faces, you would be not surprised to learn that the Barrymores who married in 1936 divorced divorced 1940.
LIFE as a member of KISS must be more mental than living in a hedge filled with laughing spiders. And depressing too. More depressing than Gene Simmons blood-chilling sex tape. No, we’re not providing a link. Look for it yourself. You’ll never listen to Foreigner in the same way again.
Anyway, former KISS honcho Paul Stanley (the one with the star on his eye when done up) has released a new new memoir, ‘Face the Music: A Life Exposed,’ written with journalist Tim Mohr. Naturally, it is anecdote-central and is filled with a myriad of bold claims.
NOT so long ago we covered the most depressing songs ever recorded, but there’s a big difference between depressing and sappy. A depressing song can actually be quite good; the artist intends to elicit sadness and it works. “Alone Again (Naturally)” by Gilbert O’Sullivan is a fine example, as is Harry Chapin’s “Cats in the Cradle”. Things turn sappy when it becomes excessively sentimental. Maybe the lyrics are transparently gooey, or the notes are sung to exaggerate the emotion. Take, for instance, the Aaron Neville and Linda Ronstadt song “I Don’t Know Much”:
I don’t know much
But I know I love you
That may be
All I need…. to know, whoaohohohah
You all know this misty-eyed classic. You half expect Linda to break down into convulsive sobs at song’s end. Yet, it still doesn’t rise to the level of sap needed for a spot on this list. The reason: We can’t go calling every romantic ballad “sappy”. Just as depressing songs have their place, so do overtly romantic songs. Perhaps, the best way to illustrate sap at its worst is by example. So, here we go…
10. “All Out Of Love” by Air Supply (1980)
They may be all out of love, but there’s still plenty of cheese to go around. Indeed, Air Supply made quite a successful career smothering the early eighties in saccharine sincerity. Their tracks were perfect for couples skating at the roller rink, but that’s where their usefulness ended. To listen to an Air Supply album the whole way through is like passing through a cloud of schmaltz.
9. “Hello” by Lionel Ritchie (1984)
Lionel Ritchie (or as I like to call him, Sappy McSapperstein) left his funk roots behind when he departed from the Commodores in favor of a solo career drenched in sentimental slush. No doubt, Ritchie could craft a beautiful melody, but they are dripping with sap. It’s a shame he couldn’t add even a little unvarnished edge to his 80s schmaltzfests.
8. “Clair” by Gilbert O’Sullivan (1972)
This song is just so precious it’s impossible to criticize. It’s like a warm buttery blanket of sentimental lovey-dovey-ness. Gilbert wrote the song for his manager’s daughter, whom he babysat. How can I complain about such an innocent lullaby…. yet, it’s saccharine levels are so high, listeners are in danger of developing Type II Diabetes. You have been duly warned.
7. “Honey” by Bobby Goldsboro (1968)
There’s nothing wrong with sad songs. “At Seventeen” by Janis Ian and “Ode to Billy Joe” by Bobbie Gentry are perfect examples of songs that had sad stories to tell, but they were also meaningful and even profound on some level. In stark contrast, “Honey” has nothing to say except just how sh***y it was that his wife died.
And speaking of songs about dead wives…
6. “Wildfire” by Michael Martin Murphy (1975)
My apologies to those who hold this song dear, but this is just dreadful. “Wildfire” is 4 minutes and 47 seconds of weepy drivel. Michael Martin Murphy makes Barry Manilow seem edgy and cynical.
And if you just can’t get enough of dead spouse music, I recommend “Daisy a Day” by Judd Strunk (1973).
5. “Heartlight” by Neil Diamond (1982)
There’s been just so many sappy songs over the years, it’s difficult to cherry pick; I could have made this a Top 100 list and still not scratch the surface. “You Light Up My Life” by Debbie Boone, “Careless Whisper” by Wham, and “Send in the Clowns” by Judy Collins would all qualify. Then I remembered the saptastic “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers” by Streisand and Neil Diamond, which led me to the frighteningly cheesy “Heartlight” – a song literally inspired by the movie E.T. It simply doesn’t get much sappier than this, folks.
4. “Don’t Give Up On Us” by David Soul (1976)
When Soul wasn’t starring in gritty TV crime dramas (Starsky & Hutch) or gritty cinematic crime dramas (Magnum Force), David Soul was dishing up one of the sappiest tracks ever recorded. Scientific studies have demonstrated that bees are actually attracted to the saccharine tones of this song. Indeed, chemical analysis of the 12” vinyl single of “Don’t Give Up On Us” was found to contain trace quantities of fructose. Sounds crazy, but it’s all true.
3. “There Will Be Sad Songs” by Billy Ocean (1986)
This one gets bonus points for being a sappy song about sappy songs. But, now I’m faced with a question: which decade excelled in sappiness the most? I would say the 1980s were the Golden Age of Sap. In the 1970s, soft rock flourished, but it only rarely had the sugary outer-coating that 80s artists dripped on their songs so lovingly. In other words, 70s soft rock was about getting high and introspective and taking it down a notch; whereas, 80s pop was a damn schmaltzapalooza.
2. Every Power Ballad Ever Recorded by Hair Metal Bands
I use “I Hate Kissing You Goodbye” by Tuff to illustrate, but this could just as well be any hair metal power ballad. “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” by Poison, “When the Children Cry” by White Lion, “Don’t Know What You’ve Got (Till It’s Gone)” by Cinderella, “I Remember You” by Skid Row… the list could go on forever. There was something very un-metal about these hair metal bands. Not only did they look like androgynous hookers, their music was more akin to Streisand than it was Maiden.
1. “Feelings” by Morris Albert (1975)
Is it any surprise that the Grand Poobah of sappy love songs makes an appearance on this list? “Feelings” combined the traditional cheeseball ballad with the corny flakiness of the lounge act and created a monster. Children of the Seventies well remember the horror of hearing this come on the car radio. Despite urgent pleas to turn it off, our parents would sing along instead. Oh, the humanity!
And on that note, I think the perfect ending for this list has to be “Feelings” as sung by The Bionic Woman. Enjoy.
THE Ultimate Warrior has died at the age of 54, WWE has sadly confirmed. Born James Brian Hellwig, Warrior electrified kids and adults alike during his time as a fearsome wrestler of the WWE (formerly WWF). His wild antics, shock of crazy hair and charged entrance made him a hit with those who are fans of professional wrestling.
For those who sniff ‘oooooh, it’s just all acting!’, The Ultimate Warrior took it wrestling to a high octane, monster truck level of theatre. He was bigger, bolder and weirder than his counterparts and everyone who watched him, immediately got excited when he appeared.
FOUR movies strong, and spanning three decades (the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s), the cinematic Alien saga — consisting of Alien (1979), Aliens (1986), Alien 3 (1992) and Alien Resurrection (1997) — is renowned for its titular creature, one of the most terrifying silver screen boogeymen of all time.
Given the nature of this franchise’s hostile (and perfect?) monster, it’s no surprise that the death scenes featured throughout the saga are frequently terrifying, bloody, and brilliantly-orchestrated.
Yet the truly memorable death scenes possess another quality as well. They’re shocking. These scenes strike with a combination of terror, disgust, sorrow, and surprise, leaving a permanent imprint on the viewer’s mind.
For a death scene to be considered shocking, it must be one that the audience can’t see coming. In other words, we expect that Colonial Marines fighting aliens by the pack are going to die, or that confused convicts running from a monster in a dark corridor will come to a bad end.
WRITING on Peaches Geldof in the Guardian, Hadley Freeman says ‘The Geldofs were Britain’s first celebrity family”. The article is called:
‘Beyond pain': Peaches Geldof, Paula Yates and one family’s epic suffering”
Epic suffering? We don’t know the family any more than Freeman does, but we imagine their suffering at untimely deaths of loved ones – Peaches’ mother Paula Yates, her partner Michael Hutchence (whose orphaned daughter has been raised by Bob Geldof) and now the second oldest daughter of three – though terrible for the nearest and dearest are no more epic than what many families have endured. But it’s this family’s fame that attracts the hyperbole and acres of news coverage, not the individuals.
WHEN Jessie J burst onto the pop scene, it briefly felt like we were going to have our own Lady GaGa, making jagged, wonky pop that was wise to the pirate radio station playlists.
However, she quickly turned into Natasha Bedingfield by retaining a lot of fans, but leaving many to shrug with a meh.
Amongst all this, there has been talk of her sexuality. She said she’d dated men and women, so the press said “HEY! YOU’RE BI!” and no-one really had the inclination to correct or refute that. There’s nothing wrong with being bisexual, right?